Fear of the dark
by ghoulina
Summary: A darkness is spreading across Fred's homeworld, one he can't escape. One so dark it threatens to extinguish the light on all planes of existance. when Fred disapears it's left up to one very problematic I.F to rescue Fred & fix the rift across several planes of existance. She's gonna need help.set several years after the end of the movie. LizXmickey, contains original characters.
1. Chapter 1

Fred Ran.

Thunder was booming menacingly above him, a final warning if he ever heard one, a final warning (which as ever) he ignored. Clouds rolled over the land, darkness seemingly emanating from them and covering the land in inky blackness. The usual pink hue of the sky darkened to a murky purple then midnight blue, colours melding and bleeding together as if the sky itself where bruising.

Hysterical laughter ripped itself from his chest as he scrambled up a hill that seemed to have sprung up out of the landscape before him, fingers and toes digging into soft earth as he rasped air into his aching lungs. He could feel the darkness behind him, encroaching over the land; coming for him. Another laugh, strained and grunting between gritted teeth as he flung himself over the peak of the hill and skidded on the heels of his shoes down the near vertical face.

Lightning lit his surroundings as he landed at the base of the hill, his momentum flinging him forwards into a roll. He felt the earth at his back and watched his legs fly silhouetted against the bruised sky which was still darkening as he watched from where he lay, the midnight blue decaying into an unsettling black. His chest rose and fell painfully fast as his lungs tried to regain control of the air rushing between his numb lips. Fred knew he should run but couldn't find it within himself to move, his limbs felt tingly and light like they would float off without him at any moment but heavy and leaden at the same time. Fred couldn't wrap his mind around anything that was happening as darkness crept over the rest of the hill and began its descent down towards his prone form; all he knew was that this was bad. _Very_ bad, _She_ was back and she was going to wreak merry havoc against those who had frolicked in her absence.

He tipped his head back and bellowed out one last string of laughter as the darkness slipped easily across his face, he laughed as long and loud as he was able, until his lungs ached for air and his sides stung like someone was unstitching them, his ice blue eyes wide and wild, flashing like the lightning flying through the sky above.

The last thing Drop Dead Fred knew of anything before the darkness forced its hands across his eyes and snuck it's tendrils into his mind was a plea, nothing spoken aloud for the hysterical laughter would allow nothing more past his lips, but a scream in his mind, a desperate cry that would ricochet around the walls of his world, bleed into children's nightmares at night and haunt the sleep of those that held him dearest without ever knowing it was his words they heard whispered desperately in the corners of their minds.

'_The Priestess has returned to the temple! Run, Run, run if you value your mind!_'

* * *

Screaming jerked Elizabeth from her sleep, her body becoming energized as she realized it was coming from the room across the hall from where she laid, the tiredness that had been trying to lull her back under by lingering in the recess of her mind and the tips of her limbs became dispelled when she threw back her side of the coverlet and cool air rushed over her body.

"Wass'up?" The slurred voice came from the bundle of cover across the mattress, the bundle shifted, a lump further down the bed rising then disappearing altogether.

"It's ok." She spoke softly, resting her hand on the largest lump beneath the covers, feeling the heat emanating from the person beneath through the coverlet. "I'll go." A mumble then silence told Elizabeth he had never really woken up properly in the first place, unsurprising considering this was the first chance he had gotten to sleep properly for nearly two weeks.

Another scream from across the hall prompted her once more and she hurried from the room, not switching on any lights knowing this place well enough by now to make her way across the hall without disturbing the rest of her sleeping household any more than they already where.

She pushed the already unclipped door open and slipped into the room where her son's screams had subsided to hitching sobs that pained Lizzie's heart.

"Jake?" She called softly as her hand sought out his light switch; Jake fell silent, or tried to. Lizzie could still hear his breath hitching in the darkness, when her fingers finally found the smooth plastic dial she twisted it up to full, illuminating the room she was so familiar with. It was a typical five year old boy's room, toys strewn seemingly permanently across the soft coffee coloured carpet no matter how often Lizzie tried to encourage him to tidy them away (or more often than not resorted to doing it herself), the soft blue walls that same as they had been painted when it had been discovered she was expecting a boy.

"Momma?" Jake called, sat on his bed, the covers thrown to the floor beside it, most probably during the throes of his nightmare, his little face red and tearstained, brown eyes mirrors of Lizzies own still shined with an unshed sheen of tears.

"Oh, Jacky." Lizzie pushed the door to behind her and crossed the room to where her sons' bed was pressed against the wall opposite the built in wardrobe and sat down on the edge of his mattress, bending down and pulling Jakes covers from the floor and setting them at the bottom of the bed before pulling him into her arms, his small hitched breaths still verging too close to sobs for her liking. "Hush, its ok sweetie." She smoothed at his flyaway blonde hair as she tried to soothe the aftermath of his nightmare. "Was it the nightmare again?" She asked, now rocking him slightly in her grasp, knowing it calmed him quicker.

Jake nodded into his mother's chest, hands clinging to her as the nightmare remained vivid in his imagination, the same one that had been plaguing his dreams for the last few weeks and disturbing the households rest. Jake could never remember everything that he had seen and heard while he was dreaming but he knew it was always alarmingly vivid to him while he was there and each time he was glad to wake up and be away from that horrid place and the darkness that didn't seem to belong.

"It's only a dream." Jake heard his mother whisper, still stroking his hair. "Nothing there can ever hurt you. I won't let it." Lizzie pressed a kiss to his hair and continued to rock ever so slightly where they sat knowing asking her son about the nightmare would get them no-where, he wouldn't speak about the nightmares. Whether this was because he didn't remember or he simply didn't want to she didn't know. She just wished they would stop, wished with all her heart her son could just rest at night like all other children and not be afraid to close his eyes and sleep. She always felt so useless when he screamed himself awake and cried himself back to sleep, stuck holding him and trying to soothe his troubled mind with no idea of what was causing it or how to stop it when it was all inside his own mind.

She found herself wishing she could reach into his mind and pull all the bad dreams from his imagination, pluck them from his nights like bad apples from a tree, she wished it was her having the nightmares in place of her son, she wished many things in desperation and fatigue.

After a while Jakes sharp, gasping breaths calmed to even breaths and his eyes, heavy with sleep had lost their angry red edging. Lizzie continued to hold him a while longer, until his breathes where starting to become shallow puffs of air and his fingers loosened their grip on her nightdress and fell into his lap signalling he was sleeping once more.

"I wish I knew what to do." Her voice felt thick in her throat, pressing a kiss to his cheek to lay him gently back in his bed and righted his covers, tucking them gently around his shoulders and into the bottom of the bed, between the mattress and the base board. Once she was sure he was settled Elizabeth decided, to be on the safe side she would stay with Jake for the rest of the night. The window seat in his room was padded thickly and had a ridiculous amount of cushions thrown over it making it relatively comfortable and easy to settle on. Tonight was hardly the first night she would spend sat as a sentinel watching over her son, wrapped in the woollen blanket she kept underneath the seat; it was the only way she knew to make the nagging feeling of uselessness subside a little.

She let a sigh escape her and rested her head against the window, from the corner of her eye she could see the moon peeking through the branches of the tree that stood lonely in the front yard, a tyre swing hanging stiffly in the breezeless night air where once upon a time, not so long ago on a summer afternoon she remembered watching a mischievous little girl (who wasn't really all that little anymore and happened to be sleeping peacefully down the hall) string her babysitter up with a precarious looking contraption that was technically way beyond the girls capabilities of setting up all by herself. Lizzie could still remember when Natalie stopped playing with Drop Dead Fred, could remember the little girl explaining that she didn't need Fred to play with anymore and he had left to help other kids who needed him more than she did. Sometimes Lizzie couldn't help thinking that maybe she had been more upset about Fred leaving than Natalie had been.

Smiling to herself Lizzie watched ghosts play on the front lawn until she slipped asleep and into her own precious memories just before daybreak.


	2. Chapter 2

**I forgot to put this in the first chapter (oops) but anywho, first ever Drop Dead Fred fanfic. Don't own Drop Dead Fred and this fic is done purely for entertainment purposes only :)**

* * *

Morning brought stiff muscles and creaking limbs from sleeping upright, every time Lizzie moved whilst cooking breakfast her back cracked and her muscles screamed in agony.

" 'Lisbeth?" Lizzie fought the smile at Natalie calling her the name she had picked up off Fred (she was ever thankful he hadn't taught her to call her 'Snot-Face') and turned the pancakes down so she could turn to the nearly teenager who was clattering about the kitchen like a mini tornado. "Have you seen my denim Jacket? I left it on my chair at the kitchen table and now I can't find it. Did Dad or you move it?" Lizzie frowned. She couldn't recall seeing it since Natalie had walked through the door with it slung over her shoulder yesterday.

"I haven't seen it since you got back from school yesterday. Perhaps you put it away in your wardrobe. Y'Know where clothes are supposed to go." She teased light heartedly, already getting used to Natalie's new found habit of leaving jackets and scarfs slung over chair backs and the stair banister, she knew Mickey was still hoping to break her of it before she reached her teens and they were dealing with 'the major leagues' as he kept referring to it.

Natalie rolled her eyes at her stepmother's half-hearted attempt at disciplining and rushed from the kitchen, nearly knocking her Father down in her haste as he finally surfaced from the best night's sleep he'd had for a while.

"Whoa!" Mickey gripped his daughters shoulders, steadying them both before she wriggled free and clomped up the stairs still in pursuit of her elusive denim jacket. "What's her deal?" Mickey asked Lizzie as she plated up his pancakes.

"Looking for her denim jacket, you didn't move it from in here did you?" Lizzie quickly kissed his cheek good morning as she set down his plate in front of where he was sat, his eyes lighting up when he noticed the pancakes, her hand had barely left the plate before his first mouthful was long gone and he was heading in for his second.

"Nope, haven't seen it." Lizzie laughed as Mickey tried to speak around the mouthfuls of pancake; it wasn't until she actually feared he may choke himself on the syrupy treats she moved the plate away from him, causing an almost pained whine to escape his throat, muffled by the mouthful of pastry.

"Calm down!" she laughed, slipping into the chair beside his, criss-crossing her feet underneath the chair. "You keep that up you'll choke!" Mickey grinned and leant across her to spear another pancake on his fork.

"I can't help it if you make such good pancakes." He took a large bite out of the one that dangled from his fork, still grinning at her as he chewed. Anyone else Lizzie would have screwed her nose up in utter disgust, but Mickey…somehow pulled it off. It made no sense, it was like everything he did fried her brain, but in the best way.

She didn't even protest when he leant across her and grabbed the plate back, just put her head in her hands and watched him eat, nicking the occasional bite, or stealing a blueberry from the sticky surface of the pancakes. It was this kind of domesticity she had never imagined having after Charles, just being able to sit with some-one and share food. She glanced down at the wooden table top, her eyes immediately being drawn to the place near her elbow where a large chunk had been taken out of the wooden top, the area around it scratched and dinted one of many areas around the house which bore scars as a result of Natalie and Fred's misadventures;

_Lizzie gasped entering the kitchen, the sight that befell her could only be the result of one person. A number of pots that had been full of some kind of brightly coloured liquid where scattered across the countertop and cooker, the liquid that had been inside spilling out and dripping down the sides of the cabinets. Forks where sticking out of the wooden back door like some-one had been playing darts with them, as Lizzie stood there the four slice toaster clicked firing, not slices of cooked bread, but four of the knives from the block into the air. Lizzie cried out and took a step back as the knives slammed into the table top, all four grouped extraordinarily close together, it was only then Lizzie saw Natalie peeking out of the larder, her blue eyes widened as they met Lizzies._

_"It wasn't me!" she cried out, clearly fearful of the repercussions of the chaos surrounding them. Her arm stuck out the door of the panty and pointed up towards the chandelier style light fixture in the kitchen that was swinging precariously back and forth. "It was Fred! I didn't touch the knife block I swear it!" Lizzie smiled, even though she was angry at Fred, there was reason Natalie wasn't allowed near the knife block, it was where all the sharp knives where kept and she knew she wouldn't usually tamper with it unless egged on by a certain some-one. _

_"What… on earth where you two trying to do?" She asked kneeling down to Natalie's level and pulling the door open, Lizzie laughed as she saw a streak of colour, the same liquid that had once been in the pots and was now everywhere but, dripping down from Natalie's hair. _

_Lizzie led Natalie over to the kitchen table and sat her in a seat as far away from the knives as she could before setting about trying to dislodge them from where they were well and truly embedded in the wooden surface. Out of the corner of her eye Lizzie could see Natalie glaring at the air beside her before pointedly turning her head away and declaring loudly;_

_"Fred said we were making a special potion." Before squealing and jolting to the side as if pushed by some invisible force._

_"Play nice Fred." Lizzie reprimanded before she could stop herself, finally freeing one knife from the cluster. Across the table Natalie giggled and Lizzie had no doubt it was because of Fred. "So…what was so special about this potion, and why did you need to fire knives into the table to do it?" Lizzie asked, tugging at a vegetable knife that was lodged at an angle. _

_"We didn't __**need**__ to fire the knives, but Fred said I wouldn't do it and kept calling me a sissy girl so-" Lizzie shook her head knowing where this was going._

_"So you decided to prove_ _him wrong_?"_ she asked, Natalie picked at her shirt sleeve, feet kicking at the table leg, keeping her head down. _

_"I'm sorry Lizzie, but we got bored waiting for the potion to be ready, and then we got distracted choosing what knives would fly better and __**then**__ the potion was everywhere!" Natalie's little arms flew around emphatically as she spoke, blue eyes wide and pleading with Lizzie to understand, Lizzie sighed, she knew she was the only one Natalie even spoke about Fred to. Mickey didn't always feel comfortable talking about it, being unnerved by the fact that his daughter had apparently somehow inherited his girlfriend's old imaginary friend. _

_"So what was so special about this potion?" Natalie didn't answer immediately, and when Lizzie looked up she noticed the little girl seemed hesitant to speak, pulling at the loose threads at the end of her shirt sleeves, eyes fixed on her knees as she shifted uncomfortably under Lizzies gaze. "Natalie? C'mon you know I won't tell you off, I know you didn't make all this mess by yourself." Lizzie moved around the table and sat down in the chair beside Natalie, her own hands folded across her lap. "I promise I won't tell Fred off either if that's what you're worried about…"_

_Natalie glanced to Lizzie, then the air just off to the side of her before exhaling loudly and nodding, her pigtails flapping around behind her._

_"Fred Says I can tell." Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "It was meant to be a surprise." Natalie explained, fingers now tapping along table edge. "I wanted to make a potion so you'd see Fred and then you could play with us." She rushed out in one breath before blinking up at Lizzie nervously, unsure of how she would react. After a few moments Lizzie took Natalie's hand, a sad smile stretching across her lips._

_"That…was very thoughtful of you and Fred." Lizzie was having trouble speaking, ridiculously touched by their childish gesture. "but, you know you and Fred wouldn't have nearly as much fun as you do if I could see him and tried to keep up with all the…funny tricks and games you guys play." Natalie blinked, her brow furrowing into a little frown._

_"But why?" Lizzie thought for a moment of that week or so when Fred had come back into her life and was struck with a moment of gratitude towards Fred and Natalie's short attention spans, unsure of wether she could cope with being caught up in Fred's chaos entirely once again._

_"Because, I'm a boring old grown up." Lizzie decided on eventually, knowing Fred at least wouldn't question __**that**__. She laughed along with Natalie's giggle, silently hoping the young girl in front of her never truly grew up and could always enjoy the world the best way it could be, the one true way the world never ceased to be a playground full of fun and adventures._

* * *

Small hands skidded at the water's edge of a small pond, the overgrown grass tangled around slim fingers as the figure leant over the water watching the scene she had summoned across the water's surface. The human couple looked…well boring and not anywhere near how she had imagined, she watched as they fed each other breakfast and pursed her lips against the urge to vomit.

She fell back onto her haunches as the woman in the water began to run her fingers almost tenderly over a divot in the surface of the table she sat at, irritably she splashed her hand roughly through the water scattering the image causing it to distort and fade with the ripples. Letting out a frustrated cry she fell onto her backside, pulling her legs up under her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs as thunder rumbled across the angry looking sky.

The woman huddled further into herself as if trying to make herself as small as possible and tried to deny to herself that she was scared. Scared of the storm rolling over her land, scared to have to go into the world she had forsaken, afraid to be alone again. But she had no choice, there was no place for fear now… no place for the cowardice she so badly wanted to indulge upon which screamed at her to run and run and never stop. Forget about Fred, save your own skin but she couldn't, because then that would mean it was all over everything would be in vain…And she couldn't even bring herself to betray him like that.

"Dammit Fred…" Her voice was hushed as she mumbled into the skin of her legs. "I hope for your sake Snot face is as fierce as you always made her out to be."


	3. Chapter 3

Jake hadn't been awake very long, He'd awoken to the sound of the heavy wooden front door swinging shut as his sister left for school, and hadn't moved. His small body was tired from the restless sleep and the cocoon of plush duvet surrounding him was far more appealing than actually moving. Not even the smell of pancakes could tempt him to even stick a toe from his bubble, nor could the slightly suspicious smell of lavender he was beginning to pick up on.

Jake did however sit up at the sound of something in his closet, something big thudding into the inside and the clattering of hangers; his tiny hands clung to the woollen monkey with neat stitches up its middle holding it together (he only ever remembered Mr pooh like this, having inherited him from his Mother at a matter of months old). His heart was beating fast in his chest like a hummingbirds wings, he knew he should call for his Mom or Dad but fright had taken his voice as another considerable thump came from within the closet.

"Where the hell am I?" Jake quirked his head to the side, strands of hair falling into his vision as he listened. It had sounded like a girl…that meant it couldn't be a monster right? Monster's didn't usually sound so confused either at least he assumed not, it wasn't as if the five year old was chummy with an awful lot of monsters but all the ones in the stories his parents had read him hadn't usually sounded like confused…and nearly tearful, girls.

"H-hullo?" Jake squeaked then promptly tugged his covers over his head and pressed his face into Mr Pooh's chest holding his breath he waited and listened.

"Hello?" Came the reply after a few seconds silence, the voice sounded just as hesitant and timid as Jake himself had. Frowning to himself Jake pursed his lips, the risk of this being a monster was dropping rapidly by the seconds (either that or Monsters really just weren't as scary as the books made them out to be) but still not enough for him to risk peeking his head above the covers and giving away where he was. "Is there some-one out there?" there it was again, that same voice. It was definitely a girl Jake decided and she sounded scared…really scared for some reason. Maybe she was afraid of the darkness in the closet? It was awfully dark in there after all.

Against the judgement of the small part of his mind that was screaming at him that it might be the thing from his nightmares come to get him at last Jake stuck his head above his covers, tugging Mr Pooh up with him for reinforcements just in case. He eyed his cream and blue wardrobe suspiciously, the clip was still latched down between the handles so how on earth the person had gotten inside he couldn't think.

"Yes. I'm out here." He called back, still eyeing the closet as if it may suddenly grow legs and fangs and dive at him.

"Oh. Ok, hello." The voice sounded a little happier now, but Jake was still clinging onto Mr Pooh. "Erm…not be rude but who are you and where exactly am I?" At that Jake hesitated, he's already broken one of his parents rules by talking to some-one who was clearly a stranger (a very strange stranger who had somehow gotten themselves lost inside his locked closet) he was unsure as to if he should tell this person his name or not.

"You're inside my wardrobe." He answered instead, his grip on Mr Pooh loosened slightly as he shuffled forwards on his bed, curiosity getting the better of what little fear he still had towards this lost voice in his closet.

"I'm….What?" a small thump sounded again from inside and the doors shook slightly as if some-one had walked into them from the other side. "OW!" The wardrobe shook once more and hangers clinked and jangled like bells and for the first time Jake worried his parents would come up to investigate all the noise.

"Hang on!" He hopped from his bed, dragging Mr Pooh behind him, still not quite brave enough to face the person in his closet alone and padded across the warm carpet towards where the chaotic sounds where emanating from. Jake had to stand on tip toes to be able to reach the latch that held the doors closed, his small chubby fingers fumbling with the hook unable to unclick it with the deftness his Mother was able to. When he finally managed to push the hook free of the small hoop the double doors fell open and a landslide of clothing and toys came tumbling out nearly knocking Jake down in their rush to escape the confines of the closet.

It wasn't until a moment later that Jake realised there was a figure tangled in amongst the wreckage that had been the contents of his closet, an extremely strange and bemused looking girl.

"Well…..I don't know how _that_ happened." She picked herself up and eyed the closet distrustfully as Jake pushed the doors shut part afraid that if he left them open another strange person may fall out his closet. As he did so he took in the girl sat at the foot of his bed picking a slinky from where it had somehow gotten tangled in her hair and muttering to herself unintelligibly under her breath, she was possibly the strangest looking person he had ever seen from her uncombed messily tied pigtails to her clothing, she looked as if she had come from the most unorthodox tea party ever known. Her dress which was gathered about her knees had a lime green and purple tartan underskirt with a soft lilac silk falling in gathers across the top of the underskirt from the waist, the style reminded Jake of the dresses the girls wore in the old films his Mom liked to watch where they all had big silly hair and makeup. The fabric was pulled tight against her waist so much so Jake thought it looked like it should be painful, the top half of her dress was coloured a darker shade of purple than the gathering that dropped down from her waist with green piping edging the top of the bodice, long sleeves where shoved inelegantly to her elbows, with what had once been white ribboning (but had long since faded to a grimy grey) hanging loose from the wrist cuffs.

He thought the dress had once probably been quite beautiful however it looked as if the girl had been living in it every moment since acquiring it and the wear had taken its toll, rips and stains littered the fabric but Jake hardly noticed them, entranced by the bright colours that seemed to be battling one another for his attention. It was quite possibly the loudest piece of clothing he had ever set eyes upon and as a result was finding it quite difficult to tear his wide orbs away.

"I'm Emma The Dilemma; Pleased to meet you." She stuck one gloved hand out towards him; the pale silken glove had what looked like grass stains on the palm and the fingers looked like they had been torn off, Jake stared puzzled unsure of what she wanted before she rolled her eyes and grabbed his tiny hand in her own from where it hung limply at his side, shaking it animatedly, his entire arm shaking with it until he started giggling at the motion. "And you are?" she leant forwards, green eyes sparkling mischievously.

"I-I'm Jake…" There was a strange aura around this woman, a sense of peace and safety emanating from somewhere and everywhere about her at once, all Jakes previous fears of her being some kind of monster from his nightmares forgotten. "And this is Mr Pooh." He held the Mutilated Monkey out towards the girl who grinned a wide (and what some would call 'unhinged') smile before taking the monkey by its little paw and shaking almost as animatedly as she had the boy.

When she had finished with Mr Pooh she dropped his arm and pointed back towards the closet she had just escaped.

"That's your wardrobe, right?" Jake nodded, unsure of why she asked. Humming considering she eyed it once more before sticking her nose in the air and stating; "I like you and your monkey but your wardrobe sucks." Jake chose to ignore this as he wasn't sure what she meant and thought instead about how she had introduced herself.

"W's D-Di….Dielle-D-"

"Dilemma?" He nodded watching a she inspected one of his trainers whose laces had been tangled around her bare ankle, lifting it up and examining it as if it were some rare and strange treasure.

"Yeah. What's that mean?" He asked, still standing, watching her every move as she picked through all the objects which had tumbled from his closet. His question however seemed to please her and she chucked the trainer over her shoulder, whatever it was that had fascinated her long forgotten as he heard it impact with his lamp making a suspiciously loud clink followed by a thump as it hit the floor. She pulled herself to her knees, placing her hands on them she leant forwards, that grin back, the one that seemed to show nearly every single one of her teeth, she tipped her head quick to the side, one hand waving him closer, she cupped her hands around his ear when he came to a stop before her and leant in as if telling a secret.

"It means I'm a problem." He pulled back and blinked at her confused, how could her name mean 'Emma The Problem?' that was just stupid.

"Why's your name mean you're a problem?" He asked .

"'Coz." She dragged the one word out before answering speaking as if explaining something very simple to someone very dumb. "No-one can solve me."

Jake considered a moment, arms crossed, Mr Pooh still hanging from one hand before deciding that his initial thought had been correct.

"That's just stupid." He stated. "It's a silly reason for a silly name." Her lips parted as if shocked, a hurt gasp escaping her lips.

"That's not nice! I think Jakes a stupid name but I don't say it to your face do I?" Jake rolled his eyes fighting a yawn as exhaustion from his lack of sleep started to niggle at his mind.

"You just did." He said impatiently. Rolling her eyes Emma The Dilemma stood, pulling herself to her full height (Not an exceptional height but impressive to a five year old at least) and placed her hands on her hips.

"Only Coz you called mine stupid! Stupid!" Jake frowned, his tiredness making him grouchy faster than normal, his patience waning quickly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to Forgelove for reviewing the last chapter :)**

* * *

Frowning up at the ceiling Lizzie listened to Jake yelling upstairs, she couldn't make out what he was saying and had no idea who he was speaking to if any-one at all, glancing across the table she noticed Mickey had paused in his attempt to see how many pancakes he could fit into his mouth at once and was also staring worriedly at the ceiling.

"Nightmare?" He asked. Lizzie worried at her lower lip; it was unusual for him to have them during the day, she was beginning to think it was something to do with the light…"I'm going to check on him." Mickey dropped his fork onto the plate heaving himself to his feet and padding out the kitchen and up the stairs two at a time, desperate to check his son was ok.

Reaching the landing mickey noted his son's voice had dropped considerably, he paused outside the bedroom door, cool metal of the door handle resting in his palm and anchoring him as he leant forwards, pressing his ear to the door. The sounds coming from inside the room sounded as if Jake was sifting through his toys, his small childish voice speaking up every now and then, back to its normal levels meaning Mickey couldn't make out exactly what he was saying but could hear him pause every now and then for different lengths of time as if listening to some-one reply to whatever he was saying. A chill ran down Mickeys spine at that thought.

_Oh god, tell me it's not him again…_

Mikey and Elizabeth had spoken about the possibility of Fred coming back once Jake reached a certain age (even the thought of which Mickey found mildly terrifying nowadays) Lizzie had hoped against her better judgement that despite the fact Fred only seemed to come to children who needed him to fill some capacity or other within their lives that wasn't being filled within their home lives he may pop up sometime during Jakes childhood, but at the same time knew that if he didn't it was a good sign.

Mickey's hand hesitated, his knuckles hovering over the wood a moment before he rapped at the door, unsure of whether he was really prepared for the possibility that his son had also inherited what seemed to be quickly becoming the family Imaginary Friend. Whatever he had braced himself for it hadn't been the sight of his son stood before what appeared to be the entire content of his closet, Mr Pooh dropped to the floor beside him, a small frown creasing his brow. When he noticed his Father's gobsmacked face at the sight of the disarray in the centre of his room he immediately burst out with the words that every parent is familiar with hearing but to Mickey signalled an uneasy squirm within his gut.

"I didn't do it! I swear!" Now coming from most children the words wouldn't mean much more than a desperate attempt to get out of whatever trouble they inevitably saw heading their way, however the amount of times Mickey had heard Lizzie cry those words during their childhood then with his own daughter followed by the name of he who shall not be named had caused mickey to think twice about what most parents would assume was a cut and dry case of a child's adventures in his closet. "It was her!" Mickey blinked, stunned momentarily as his son pointed an accusatory finger at the pile of clothes and toys. _Her?_ Not _Him?_

"Jake…There's no-one there kiddo." Mickey stayed in the doorway, dithering as to if he should enter the room or not. Mickey watched as Jake turned towards the pile himself, his head tipped slightly as if listening to some-one speak (it didn't matter how many times in his life Mickey saw that happen it would never cease to be creepy.) a gesture and expression upon his face that Mickey was by this point in his life extremely familiar with.

"Why can't Daddy see you?" He asked after a moment, addressing what appeared to Mickey at least, to be a bright yellow jumper that Mickeys mother had bought him for Christmas. To this day they hadn't been able to persuade him to actually wear it. After a moment Jake blinked then 'oh' as if in understanding before smiling at his Dad. "It's ok daddy. It's not your fault." Mickey blinked dumbfounded while unbeknownst to him Dilemma giggled almost maniacally where she was crouched down in front of the young boy.

Straightening up Emma the Dilemma took in the man who still stood dithering at the doorway, fingers picking nervously at the paint of the door, he was still in pyjamas, a blue robe thrown over the top and blonde hair in disarray. Dilemma crossed her arms across her chest and tapped at her chin thoughtfully trying to place the man in all Fred's stories he had told her, if the boy was Jake that meant he was Snot face's kid…so that must mean;

"FARTPANTS!" she snapped her fingers as she finally linked his appearance with a brief fleeting description Fred had given her of the man once…she couldn't help but feel perhaps Fred had been a bit harsh on him he didn't really look like a girl, but then again what would she know the only person she had had any contact with for the last few hundred years had been Fred. That is until today of course.

Jake meanwhile was looking at his new friend curiously, who was she calling Fartpants he wondered. Meanwhile Dilemma had crossed the room and was peering at Mickey who was staring at his son who was staring at the air a little to his left, fighting the urge to look, knowing he would see nothing Mickey finally moved into the room letting the door click shut softly behind him.

"Who are you talking to?" Mickey was trying hard to sound casual as he stooped to scoop up an armful of toys, his foot catching on a trainer that had been thrown carelessly aside. Jake considered a moment; he knew talking to people no-one else could see was unusual even though he was young, without thinking he glanced towards Emma the Dilemma for help, his little eyes wide and unsure.

"Tell him I'm a friend of Fred's." She said, a smile playing on her lips as she sat on the edge of his bed. Obediently Jake repeated her words, luckily he didn't notice the way his father's movements stuttered a moment but Dilemma certainly did and laughed aloud, yes Fred had most definitely left his mark here all right. Jake however had no idea; he didn't even know who Fred was. He'd heard his Mother and Natalie mention him on occasion but further than that knew nothing.

"And erm," Mickey hesitated, piling the toys along the top shelf, taking his time lining them up as he considered what he wanted to ask the child. "What exactly is Fred's friend doing here?"

"None of your business Fart pants!" Dilemma called, kicking her bare feet up onto the bed, it was the first time Jake had noted she wasn't wearing any shoes. It was also when he realised 'Fart Pants' was his father. Unsure of whether to be upset on his father's behalf or give into the niggling urge to giggle, so he tilted his head downwards and smiled into his chest instead.

Mickey turned his head at his son's smothered giggle, unable to believe that this happy child could be so tormented of a night….that is except he had witnessed Jakes nightmares. The intensity of them even shook him whilst he had been trying to wake the small boy.

"Daddy?" Jake was picking up Mr Pooh from the floor and cuddling him against himself as was his habit, it was rare to see the boy without the stuffed toy, there was just something about it he had latched onto.

"Yes kiddo?"

"Can I have pancakes for breakfast?" Mickey grinned; Like Father like son. Glancing at the mess remaining in the centre of the room he figured they could clean it up once they had eaten. Maybe then Jake would be a little more forthcoming about Fred's visiting Friend.

"Course you can." He picked the small boy up and began to carry him from the room, a part of him still marvelled that he had been so lucky as to have gained this amazing little family…

"Can my friend have some too?" The optimism in the little boys voice and the shine in his droopy eyes where the only thing that made Mickey hesitate to flat out refuse. It was so rare for him to be like this…

Figuring it couldn't really hurt too much Mickey nodded, agreeing so long as Momma didn't mind cooking extra. Although he highly doubted she would once she realised she was cooking for an acquaintance of the infamous Drop Dead Fred.


	5. Chapter 5

Emma sighed once the small boy and his father where out of the room and fell backwards onto the bed, arms outspread around her head, the softness of the bed beneath her something she was slightly unaccustomed to after all these years. The comfort felt alien and wrong; instinctively she slipped from the springy mattress and back to the floor before resting her head against the side of the mattress.

"What am I doing?" regret was burning in her gut and making her throat clench tight around the words she murmured to herself, what had she been thinking? Sneaking off across the bridge like that? The fact she couldn't even get her location materialization right proved she shouldn't be here; she wasn't even a qualified I.F! What if _they_ got wind of this…?

Her skin crawled at the thought, despite the small voice in her mind (The one that always sounded suspiciously like Fred when he was trying to sound intelligent) trying to placate her by reassuring her they had bigger fish to fry now the priestess was knocking at the walls of dimensions. Sniffling she swept her hands through her disarray of hair, pushing knotted locks back from her face and glancing about the room in an attempt to distract herself from where those kinds of thoughts inevitably led her. It was a nice enough room she figured…if a bit boyish. But then again Jake was a boy so she figured it made sense he would have a boys room. She felt it was probably the kind of room Fred would approve of…even if it lacked in Green.

She could hear laughter from downstairs and knew she should join the boy or he would start to wonder where she was (not that she wasn't already doing that herself) but couldn't seem to bring herself to move.

_God what was I thinking coming here? How is this going to help me find Fred?_

She buried her head in her hands; indulging in something Fred never let her…self-pity. Since Fred had disappeared their homeland had been changing radically, the usually blue skies where black and angry, growling with hateful thunder and lightning flashed and struck the now dying tree's. When the world had been new to her, it had seemed the most beautiful place she could ever have imagined, the flowers where bright and sweet smelling, the grass the greenest, green and there wasn't a single factory chimney obscuring the dreamlike skyline that had stretched on before her. Now it was like some-one was killing the land, drawing all the life and energy from it, leaving it dry and drained. She couldn't remember a time (not since being in that place with Fred anyway) when she had felt so scared and alone, she'd hidden from the shades that had begun to stalk the forest's looking for others of their kind to drag away to God only knows where, for what felt like days she kept telling herself he would come find her. He always did, he wouldn't just dessert her here. He'd only gone for a cloud run…But when the fires had begun to burn and the forests started to wither to ashes she had realised he wasn't coming for her.

She remembered that night in almost alarming detail, it seemed like a bad dream sometimes and at others all too real; she had hidden amongst the oldest and tallest of trees when the shades had come past, the spindly bodies casting crooked shadows against the forest floor as she pressed herself as closely as possible to the trunk of their tree, finger nails digging into the dead wood the unrelenting grip had driven splinters into the soft flesh of her palms almost like the tree was trying to make her let go, trying to drive her towards the shades…

A shudder ran along her spine a sensation of ice dripping down her vertebrae the sensation drove her to her feet and in a flash she found herself downstairs, crouched beside a wooden dinner chair that Jake was perched upon, a number of cushions stacked beneath the young boy to ensure he could reach the table comfortably. She blinked about herself, startled, she had no idea she could do that…

A flurry of purple sparks to Jakes right caught his eye and he watched with wide eyed awe as Emma Dilemma popped into existence beside him with a soft chime that reminded him of his mother's glass wind-chimes she kept in the garden.

"WOW!" his voice escaped in a hushed exhale, drawing Dilemma's eyes to his, the slightly startled look slipped away into a smug grin as Fred's voice seemed to whisper in her ear _"No matter how out of your control a situation seems never let your child know your worried... Or panicked…Or scared." _

"Pretty nifty huh?" She gloated, pushing her worries to the back of her mind, so the magic she had borrowed was a little rambunctious, she'd get used to it. It was only because she'd never had her own magic before…not that it was hers now but this was the first time she hadn't had some-one else there reigning in the extra power and focusing her she told herself. She could handle it. She didn't need Fred holding the safety reigns.

Lizzie watched Jake as she placed his breakfast down before him, watched as a the widest grin she had ever seen split his face, not even the pancakes tearing his eyes away from whatever or rather _whoever_ had obtained his complete attention.

"See what I mean?" Mickey muttered under his breath as she leaned slightly against the counter beside him, both watching from a distance as Jake interacted with the unseen personality inside their kitchen. Lizzie hummed and swept her fringe back behind her ear, watching as her son divided up his breakfast into two halves just like she used to as a child. Half for her, half for Fred….

"And he defiantly said it's a friend of Fred's?" Mickey nodded and Lizzie felt a strange surge of elation work its way through her body…A friend of Fred's… A small twitch at the corner of her mouth belayed the otherwise serious look she had forced onto her face.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a higher plane of the etherworld from which Emma the Dilemma had absconded the land was in flux. The world was shifting and dying around two figures that had made this place their home since the beginning of time itself. The tree's that surrounded them where undefined and flowing, their shapes undefined and colours pale and modulating to a beat like a heart, the pulse of the universe. And the beat was slowing. The grass beneath their feet grew and died incalculable times, spring flowers blooming between the blades before withering away only to rise once more mere moments later. The two beings ignored their surroundings, well aware of what was happening within their home, feeling each birth and death within themselves, feeling the very fabric of their world unravelling around them, in their minds their hearts.

Both figures stood before a looking glass that seemed to grow from the ground itself, the glass shimmering and flexing like water inside the vine frame. The figure to the left raised its hand and touched the organic frame, fingers wrapping around the vines, intertwined and overlapping around one another and the water like glass surface erupts into chaotic ripples, violent movement erupting within the looking glass.

"Isfet, Stop." The figure on the right pushed the hand away, knocking it back to her companion's side, and the looking glass's surface calmed once more to the soft ebb and flow of before. "It's difficult enough to see as it is without you manipulating the glass."

The man beside her sniffed and folded his arms across his chest, allowing his dark crimson cloak to drape down and fall in heavy lines across his frame once more, his pale lips pressed into a tight line as he watched the Soul they had manipulated into crossing to the Centreplane through the glass.

"Do you think this was wise?" He asked, his voice was sharp as he addressed his partner.

"I would have thought you would be all for an opportunity such as this Isfet." She spoke; her voice was a contrast to his as stark as snow to fire, where his was sharp and biting hers was soft and gentle like the wind through leaves.

"I enjoy creating chaos when I know you have to go behind me and can set it right Mayet. I become suspicious when you _want_ chaos and don't know how to balance it." Isfet looked to the woman beside him, the golden aura about her emanating tranquillity and balance.

"Sometimes, the only way to possibly achieve balance once more is to create chaos." Her tone was calculated and infuriated Isfet beyond the point of reason. As usual.

"Fine." He spun away from the looking glass and made to move out from the copse throwing over his shoulder as he did so; "This time, if Chaos is not balanced though you do realise the consequence. Don't you?" Mayets white orbs met Isfet's dark ones, the strength and righteousness quailing him, just as she had centuries before.

Mayet turned her head back to watch as the soul entertained the mortal boy as he ate, sensing Isfet still behind her the deity stroked her fingers over the smooth feather concealed within the folds of her own cloak.

"I know you don't enjoy me playing with your toys Isfet, but this is needed."

"I really hope you know what you're doing."

"Don't you?" Mayet asked, still not turning to face her partner.

"No. But I never do." She heard him move through the brittle grass, walking from the copse to the edge of their world and still she did not move.

Isfet walked until he hit the edge of their world, the barrier which separated them from the other planes of existence and sat, watching as fine, spider web like splinters broke across the surface, darkness creeping into the brightness of their world and felt unease stir within him. By the gods he hoped she knew what she was doing.


	6. Chapter 6

_disclaimer: I don't own drop dead Fred, never have never will do. Although I wouldn't say no to a fred of my own if I'm being perfectly honest :) _

_So...I personally am not pleased with this, but I didn't want to leave this any longer without updating, and this chapter begins to lay down some key parts of this story and you also get the first insight into Fred's past (there will be more, possibly in the next chapter, not too sure yet), so please let me know what you think, feedback is always appreciated...anyway ramble over hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Fred's every limb felt heavy, almost leaden where he was slumped against what felt like a wall, he wan't too sure, unable to open his eyes and look around himself and unable to move and feel his surroundings he was reduced to deducing where he was purely by the cool, almost damp hard surfaces pressing against his sides and back. Fred could feel something rough against his cheek, pressing against his skin and leaving an indent there...

Why couldn't he move!?

Fred's muscles itched and ached with pent up frustration and energy, Drop Dead Fred was not a patient man at his best times, and this was hardly one of those. He wanted to scream at whoever had clobbered him over the head, ask them just what they thought they where doing going around smacking perfectly innocent I.F's over the head...well...kinda innocent I.F's... Fred wanted to let the energy pent up inside, coiling like a overwound spring, needed to let it out.

He felt his breath become heavier as it escaped his lungs in rushing gasps between his slightly parted lips, he could taste the damp in the air when he inhaled, could smell a foreign coppery scent that somewhere in his memory he recognized. Fred inhaled again deep, trying to pick out the copper tones from the overbearing odour of earth, where the bloody hell was he? Who had taken him? What was happening?

Trapped within his own mind, unable to force his body into any action further than breathing heavily (which was only productive in making his throat and chest sore) Fred tried to cast his mind back, back to the hill... E verything seemed distorted, every clear line of the memory was blurred like a chalk painting left in the rain. He could still feel the mud beneath his fingers, caking beneath his bitten fingernails...or was he actually in mud? He couldn't tell.

_Hush..._

A whisper, so close and sudden from the darkness Fred was sure that had he still had control over his own body he would have jumped from his skin and procedeeded to shit himself.

_Hush..._

There again, Fred's breath quickened once more, escaping in rasping exhales and stinging inhalations as the cold air burned his lungs...the tempreture had dropped, it wasn't that cold before he was sure, the sensation of goosepimples breaking across his skin and scattering up his bare arms was- hang on, where was his jacket?

_Don't be afraid..._

A developed reactionary instinct somewhere within made him want to snort out a laugh, Drop Dead Fred wasn't afraid of anything, he was the thing all the monsters hiding under the beds and behind the clothes in childrens closets had nightmares of! At least that was what he told every-one else...

_Wrong. I am what creatures like your kind hold in fear Fred...I am the shadow that haunts creation, the raincloud smothering every sunny day..._

So much for not being afraid Fred mused.

_The heartbreak that kills._

Fred's breath stuttered as the sensation of something...almost bone like began to stroke his bare forearm, up from his wrist joint, something sharp (claw like, his brain supplied unhelpfully, conuring horrific images to his panic fevered mind) catching on his skin whatever it was caressed upwards to his inner elbow (tickling his sensitive skin as it passed the area) further up his bicep, by this point Fred had realised the solid unyealding...apendage? Well whatever it was that was stroking at his skin wasn't bone...not exactly anyway, he could feel slight divots and rasied areas before it paused at the hem of his t-shirt's sleeve, like whatever it was was engraved.

_I am everything and everywhere. I am eternal; so long as I am feared and remembered I shall never die._

Fred wanted to cry. Drop dead Fred never shed a tear in his life, but Fred did, Fred was only a man afer all.

_I can show you eternity. Do you want to see eternity Freddie?_

Fred wished he could scream as a burning whiteness emblazoned itself on his retinas, Wished he could rip his head away or bite at the claw like fingers that suddenly gripped and encased his head, wanted to thrash and hollar until his throat was raw and his voice cracked and beyond sound, wanted to drown out thefamiliar voice that whispered in his ear, dragging old and long burried memories and emotions to the forefront of his mind. Faces he hadn't seen or envisaged for years...

* * *

_Lying awake of a night was becoming more and more common for him, trying his best to remain still so as to not give away his consciousness to his Mother who lay but a short space away, both trying to keep quite so as the other didn't know each where awake. But Fred knew she was. He heard her crying to herself in the darkness once the lamp was extinguished, he could feel her cry as her breathless sobs shook her slight frame and disturbed the cloth they slept upon causing it to make only the slightest of noise. The kind of noise you only seem to hear once plunged into darkness. It had been this way since his Father had left them, Fred didn't understand completely after all he was only young, barely five summers old and his sister younger still. But he did understand what gone meant; it meant no more snowball fights in the winter flurries, it meant no more wild stories of dragons and brave knights. No more Father. _

_Rolling onto his side and curling up tight into a ball he tried to smother the painful aching twist in his gut that accompanied that thought, he was the man of the house now, Father had told him so himself. Being the man of the house meant he had to be strong, just like Father had been. Had to take care of Mother and Maggie, but it was so hard when all the young boy wanted to do all the time was hold onto the lonely looking jacket that still hung from the empty kitchen chair and cry. He did sometimes…only sometimes when Mother had taken Maggie with her to market and he was sure he was entirely alone inside the farmhouse. That was something else that he was responsible for now; the farm. _

_His Mother was trying to work it alone, even though Fred in his childish ways tried to help her by collecting eggs or feeding animals but this winter had been harsh and no matter how hard she tried she just knew they would be lucky to have enough produce to carry themselves through let alone enough to sell on down the market and if she couldn't bring any money in…A cold shiver ran down her spine and made Fred jump where he lay, although he quickly stifled the instinctive reaction. IF they couldn't keep the farm running she wouldn't be able to keep the house. They would end up destitute._

_Another wave of hot burning tears began to slip down her face at the thought of her babies in a pauper's workhouse. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if that was what it came to…_

_Fred waited, his breath held and sparkling eyes wide and staring into darkness. He tried to think of one of the stories his Father had told him once, what seemed like a long time ago but could only recall fragments of the memory, mostly of his Father sat beside him on their one bed (the bed was gone now. Mother had sold it after Father had left…said she couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in there again, Fred didn't mind, sleeping on the makeshift bed of cloth and straw he could imagine he was camping out beneath the stars in the fields), he was still in his labouring clothes, face clean but hands still grubby from the earth he had been working. Fred squeezed his eyes shut trying to make the image clearer in his mind's eye, his_ _Fathers vivid hair that matched his own shocking mop, set into a reasonably representable style. _

"I do wish you would do something with that mess."  
"I can't help it moll! Me and Freddie are wild creatures' with outsides to match our innards, right boy?"

_Fred smiled at the memory, his Mother loathed that they could never seem to fully tame their hair, she would gripe and tug at his hair for what seemed hours on a Sunday before church until she exhausted herself and left his Father to try and fix the wilderness atop his head. _

"Now then Freddie, this story isn't like all the others, this one is one to take to heart." His Fathers fingers tapped at his chest where his little heart beat fervently with excitement beneath his skin. "This is the story of the little Pauper, who despite to the whole world appeared to own nothing more than the clothes upon his back, was actually the richest man to live. Wanna hear how come?" Fred locked his curious eyes to his Fathers, a spark of mischief and pride glinting away in their honey coloured hues as his son nodded enthusiastically, wriggling down into the blanket like a worm through the earth until just his nose and eyes peered above the rough brown wool, watching his Father recount the tale with rapt attention.

_Fred smiled and settled into the rough hessian he was using as a pillow and imagined his Father sat beside him, his deep voice retelling the tale of the little pauper, as he began to slip into one the deepest and most peaceful sleep he had enjoyed since just before his Father left. And as sleep began to wrap her arms around him and lull him away to another world he could almost kid himself that he could smell the familiar scent of fresh earth and early blossom that always seemed to cling to his Father after a day's hard work._


End file.
